Tag: life lessons

Fifty trips around the sun

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

Yesterday was my birthday, but I learned from a dear astrologer friend that my actual birthday, according to official trips around the sun from the moment I was born was May 8 at 7:12 PM Eastern Time. This helped me not take yesterday so personally because I had the worst birthday I can remember. It was so bad, by last night, when I was blowing at the candles on the birthday cake that Ron, Ronan, and I made together throughout the day, I was afraid I was going to catch my hair on fire!

Thankfully, I didn’t. I lived and am here to live and love another day. I had hoped to write something profound and beautiful in the blog for my birthday. Something hopeful in dark times. Something about the perspective I have gained after fifty years of living on this planet amongst people, the other animals, the trees, the bees, and so on. But I could only just kind of hang on for dear life and try to get through.

And, somehow, right now, maybe that’s all some of us can do.

I won’t go into details, but the day started with Ron being a bear, me being mad that he was being a bear on my birthday, and then it ended with me injuring myself pretty significantly with the mixer while I tried to make the frosting for my own birthday cake. Along the way, there were strange encounters, bad news about one of my jobs, Boudica actually got outside of our fence when our neighbor accidentally didn’t close the gate, and I spoke to my father for the first time in a year. His life has fallen completely apart in the last few months, and my heart breaks for him, even though we are not close at all.

I’m so glad my birthday is over. There were bright spots. I got to have lunch with my wonderful daughter, and Ron and Ronan and Boudica (Boudica sings) all sang happy birthday to me late at night with a beautiful homemade cake with strawberry frosting, but mostly, I was feeling pretty worried about safety by the end of the day. I kept dropping things, falling, and, of course, the big injury with the mixer. Thankfully, no bones were broken, and I ended the day with only a broken heart.

Ultimately, the day felt like a good lesson for me. Times can be really tough and maybe a little scary, but we have to keep trying, keep hoping, and keep loving those around us.

Oh, and I have a turkey update! Somehow, 17 of the 19 hatched. They are magnificent, so beautiful, and so difficult. The bad news is that the news about my job cut means we can’t keep all of them, but I reached out to the smartest, kindest chicken lady I know. She and her husband are going to take some baby turkeys. I deliver them tomorrow, and I am so excited to see her farm.

Can you tame a wild heart?

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

The other morning, when I went to open up the chicken coop and do the food and water, I couldn’t find Ruby. Ron had put up the chickens the night before, and he doesn’t count the chickens like I do. I was in a panic until I realized I could hear Ruby. But, as I looked around, I still couldn’t find her. It literally sounded like she was coming from inside the coop walls. I didn’t know what to think.

And then I looked down. Outside, there is a ramp with slats leading to the big front door of the coop, Ruby was stuck under the ramp! I have no idea how she got there. It is solid on the sides. In fact, as I write this, I am a little freaked out by how she got there. But that’s where she was. Just complaining so loudly, probably extra because I was stepping down on the ramp and probably squishing her a little.

I raised up the ramp, and Ruby ran out. She didn’t even seem grumpy to me, as she usually is. She just seemed so relieved. That little girl!

We all took guesses as to what happened to her. Mostly, we just made up wild stories. I suggested the rats grabbed her and took her under the coop, but she escaped–sort of. My teen son said the rats got her and were storing her under the ramp for later, like in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. If you have read that book, I am sorry for that imagery. If you have not read that book, right now is definitely not a good time to read that book. Just don’t do it.

My real guess is that Ruby was out late roosting somewhere, got scared by something, managed to squeeze under the coop for safety but then was drawn to the light under the ramp in the morning. That’s truly just a guess though because there are holes in that theory as well because there is no easy path from the under the coop to under the ramp. I guess I will never know, but words cannot express how badly I wish Ruby could talk to me.

One thing I know for sure is that Ruby has a wild heart and is determined to make life an adventure for herself.

I have been thinking about this a lot lately. I have been reflecting on my life and my constant push and pull between wanting adventure in my life but then wanting safety and security at the same time. I feel I am a mess. Maybe a little too much like Ruby in some ways because Ruby.

I was thinking about this more when I pruned the pear trees the other day. I love those pear trees so much, but I love them for what they give me, of course. I hate how I have to tame them to not get too tall and how I have to trim branches to ensure the best fruit in the fall. The chopping feels so harsh to me. You know those trees want to be wild. They try every year.

But their fruit is tied to my security. Every year, I get to can pears, make pear crisp, and the like because I tame those trees.

This morning, when I opened the coop door, Kate, Juliet, and Ruby were out and about right away. When I came back later after caring for the ducks and doing their water, Ruby and Juliet were at the door wanting back into the coop. After the rest of the flock clears out, they like to go back into coop to eat. I couldn’t find Kate at all though.

I looked around and found her walking way down the driveway. She is so adventurous. Kate-Kate has a wild heart that will never be tamed.

Look Out the Window

~ Crystal Sands ~ 4 Comments

Well, friends, I did it. I successfully hatched a batch of baby chicks, and they are now all in the brand new brood box Ron made for them. That brood box is a masterpiece, and I must write about it one day. However, for my story today, you just need to know that it has a large window in the front, so it literally looks like a giant chicken tv.

And, as such, my husband, son, and I have found ourselves watching the baby chickens on “television” several times a day. Last night, we all happened to be out there together watching through the window at how the baby chicks interacted with their world.

“It’s so interesting to think about how their whole world is in that box right now,” my teenager said. “They don’t even know to look out the window.” Oh, that kid has a beautiful mind!

We all talked about how they have everything a baby chick could need or want (besides a mama) right there in that little box–it’s warm, it’s spacious, there’s fresh food and water. And there are many friends to be had. I think I hatched 29 chicks.

“Every now and then the hand of ‘God’ reaches in and adds fresh food and water, and then they are go on their little ways” my son said.

And this led us to a discussion of humans.

Open window with a wooden frame looking out onto a misty green landscape.

We talked about how much there is that humans can’t see or understand, which relates to how we define “God,” though my son pointed out that there are plenty of scientists who have been trying to “look out the window” and see what all is out there. Still, most of us probably don’t even have time to stop and look up at the stars.

I just spent the last four months working non-stop to try to save money and pay off debt before things get really tough economically. Thankfully, we did not have much debt. We are lucky. But we do not own our property outright, so that’s a worry. So, pretty much, for the last several months, if my eyes were open, I was working. I was exhausted mentally and physically and could not move my right arm very well from the repetitive motions. I noticed I was getting more and more grumpy, and I don’t like myself that way.

And then, last week, my jobs were cut back, as I knew they eventually would be. I didn’t “lose” the jobs, but there is just less work–fewer students in college means fewer classes. So, last week, for first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe a little. As scary as it all is, I was just so thankful to not have to work so much.

The other night, when I went outside to put the ducks to bed, instead of rushing them into the duck house, so I could get back to work, I just stood outside and looked up at the stars. When I did, I realized I had not looked up at the stars in months. What a tragedy that is, right? The stars make me think of our Great Pyrenees Gus, who loved to sit outside and just look up at the stars at night, or the clouds during the day, or a cool bird on the fence. But, right before he died, we sat out under the stars for a long time and just took them in together.

The stars are lovely and remind me of how small I am and how small my problems are and how small even the cruel people in charge really are. They don’t know they’re small–well, maybe on some level they do and it scares them and that’s why they behave as they do. But I guess that’s a whole other issue. Still, doesn’t the vastness of the galaxy just give you some perspective?

Looking up at the stars made me think about how I am just a blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things. I am a human animal, a mother doing my best to protect my children, keep them safe, ensure the survival of my species because that’s what I am programmed to do, I suppose–and, because I seem to have been born with an urge, make some human art along the way.

But I also have to remember there are so many things I don’t quite understand, how it all fits together, why things fall apart, why cruelty seems to be such a part of it all, but maybe, if I take time to look out the window, I will find some answers. Of course, the older I get, the more I realize that the answer might be that there are no answers.

In the meantime, I am watching the baby chicks. It’s been a few days, and they haven’t looked out the window yet, but give them time, they will soon. And, then, their curious minds will want to know what is outside of that brood box, and the day their feathers come in and they no longer need heat and they get go outside to touch the earth and eat bugs and play in the grass will be the best day.

photo credit: Hannah Tims, Unsplash

Witchy Brooms

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

Day 188 of 365

One of the things that has helped me most in my life is learning how to not be jealous and to be truly happy for other people’s success and treasures they get for themselves. This did not come naturally to me when I was younger. I grew up in a large family with few resources. I envied everything from the houses my friends lived in to the blue jeans they wore. 

Thankfully, fairly early on as an adult, I could see that being envious was getting me nowhere and just making me unhappy. Still, it was a process of letting go and growing before I could truly feel happy for other people’s successes and treasures. I think I was in my late 30s when I realized that life is pretty tough and if I don’t learn to be happy for others, there is just not going to be enough happiness in life to suit me. 

This worked. I now know how to deeply take happiness from other people’s success and good fortunes. I love when friends get good jobs or a dream house or when their kiddos do well in the world. I feel joyful that I have brilliant friends who are rewarded for their amazing skills and hard work. I have some writer friends who get dream book deals or land articles in dream publications, and I feel so proud of them—and then do my best to support them by buying and sharing their books. I feel happy when my friends or acquaintances treat themselves to something nice, especially my mom friends. They deserve a treat and then some. 

I have found, because I am so truly happy for others, I end up with a lot of joyfulness in my life, and isn’t that such a wonderful thing? 

But I am far from perfect, of course, and there are a couple of material possessions I feel envious of—barns, brooms, soft yarn. I also really want some heritage chickens and feel a tiny bit of jealous when I see people post pictures of their heritage chickens in the chicken forums. Well, it’s like 90% happy for them and just 10% jealous.

I don’t know if a barn is ever going to be possible, but Ron and I are trying to make a plan to save up for a small barn. The other things seem possible though. Well, the chickens are a challenge as we are at capacity. I guess that one and the barn are kind of tied together. Still, a fantastic broom seems reasonable, so I decided to start with brooms. 

I have always loved brooms and not the kind from Wal-Mart or Target—the real brooms, the witchy brooms, the beautiful, handmade brooms that look like they might be magic and are most certainly beautiful. 

There is a children’s book called The Widow’s Broom by Chris Van Allsburg. I must have read it to both of my children about a dozen times. It’s about a witch who falls from the sky when her broom starts to get too old and worn out. A woman finds the witch and helps her heal after the fall. As a thank you, the witch leaves her old broom with the woman, and though the broom can’t fly anymore, it can still help around the house. The old woman and the broom become good friends. Later, some townspeople see the magic broom and try to destroy it. I won’t give away the ending, but it ends happily thanks to a clever woman and a clever broom. 

Last week, I read an article in a Maine magazine about a broom maker who has a shop on the coast of Maine. Classes are sometimes offered but not at this time, so to get one of these beautiful brooms, you have to go to the shop. You can’t buy one online. You have to go there in person and see the brooms for yourself. 

This sounds like choosing your magic wand to me, and I really want to go to this shop and choose a broom. I have decided to make this a goal for the holiday season—to get a special broom. The shop in Maine is a long drive from where I live, but if I manage to go, I will take a lot of pictures. I don’t know what Ron is going to think of this plan because I am going to want him to drive me. I can do it, but I am not a fan of driving. It’s too stressful.

Anyway, I spent this week learning some of the lore related to brooms and witches since I love witchy brooms so much. I learned, for example, that you have to use your broom with intention, like you can sweep out negative energy if you want to. Oh, and it’s bad luck to store your broom on its bristles, which makes sense. I wonder if I can hang it. 

I am not sure why I have always loved brooms so much or exactly why or how they came to be associated with witches. Apparently, there is some debate, but I read an anthropologist said the association may be related to a pagan ritual where farmers leap and dance on brooms and/or pitchforks in the moonlight to encourage growth of their crops.

I have to tell you, after this summer’s drought, I completely understand trying dances to get your crops grow.

photo credit: Jane Slack Smith, Unsplash

One Step at a Time

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

Day 10 of 365

Well, I made it to double digits in my efforts to write every single day for year. That seems like a good first milestone. My husband says that you have to do something for 30 days for it to become a habit. I hope that’s true, as I will have just 20 days to go to make writing here a habit.

I will have to be quick with my writing today. I have much work to do–many essays to grade. It’s been a busy week, and Thursdays tend to be long grading days for me. Things have also been extra stressful this week. I am teaching a writing class that ends this week, and some of my students are just in a panic. I have found that, since the pandemic, the normal “end-of-class anxiety” has increased ten fold. Everyone is stressed. Everyone.

It’s understandable. I just read an article today about problems with global food supplies that are certain to get worse. There’s a terrifying baby formula shortage. There are wildfires. Inflation is worrisome. At the grocery store today, I saw that a carton of a dozen organic eggs cost $8.49. It made me very thankful for our refrigerator full of organic eggs. But I understand the stress.

Today, one of my extremely-stressed students actually hung up on me while I was trying to help her over the phone. At first, I was grumpy about it, bemoaning the treatment of teachers. But then I remembered the stress of the world, and I decided to text my student a kind message of support. I told her I was going to type out what she needed to do so that she could read and process it again when she was less stressed. I told her to try not to stress, that the work always seems worse when it feels new and unknown–feels like it’s piling up. But I promised her she just needed to take things one step and a time.

And isn’t that the truth? Just one step at a time.

I believe I have learned this deeply, learned a kind of serenity that helps me with my anxiety from the state of the world, from homesteading. There have been times when I have felt overwhelmed by the work of a farm, like when our flock got sick with a respiratory illness a few years ago or when the garden is producing faster than I can process the food in the fall because I have to keep grading essays too. There was the duck with the broken leg that had to be healed. There was the summer when three ducks had bumble foot to treat. Three ducks! That’s a lot of duck-foot wrapping.

But I always get through it.

These experiences have given me some wisdom and patience, which is so important to someone with such a busy, worried mind. I dig into each new task knowing that, even though my work may feel daunting, most likely, I will be able get through it all. I often write about the magic of the farm and living more connectedly to nature, but as I thought about things today, I realized one of the most important life lessons I have learned from the farm is that I can handle more than I can think. I just have to start.

I don’t know what to do about global food shortages. But, today, I delivered the first farm shares to two families, and a third one starts next week. Maybe it’s okay to just take things one step at a time.

***

And just a quick Ruby update. She is doing fairly well, but I discovered when I candled her eggs that she has some poultry lice around her head. It feels like a miracle I saw them. I have terrible eyes. My poor Ruby! But I treated her with the good stuff, since I don’t have to worry about withholding her eggs anyway. She’s not going to be laying eggs for a long time. I also took her extra treats and scrambled her an egg this morning. Being broody is hard on a hen, and adding lice to the situation is not good. Still, I will give her a second treatment next week and will scramble an egg for her every day. Hopefully, this won’t be much of a setback for her.